


Second Attempt

by Fishyz9



Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:01:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishyz9/pseuds/Fishyz9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The deflowering of Will Horton. Follows my fic ‘First Attempt’ (a part of Endless Series of Fails III)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Attempt

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure about this one. I wrote it a while ago and didn't like it, but i had a play with it and...*shrugs* okay. If anyone wants to write a WilSon fic about their first time together in detail, I'd be very happy about that...

_“Tomorrow night,” I whisper back, so only he can hear me.  “My place.”_

I’m nervous and I don’t know why. I mean, butterflies are normal, but sweaty palms? Compulsive fixing of my hair? Not so much. I’m the experienced guy here; I know what I’m doing, it’s Will who’s the virgin.  So why am I pacing my apartment, straightening pillows and obsessively screwing with the seasoning for the spaghetti sauce I’m making just for Will? I’ve done this before; I even told Will when he asked me about my time in Salem, _I haven’t exactly been a monk_.

I don’t sleep around, not by any means, but I do―or did before Will―date. My number is three. Two ex-boyfriends before meeting Will, and one guy who was a more… _casual_ experience, since coming to Salem. I don’t think that makes me either a prude or a player, it’s a fair number, one I’m looking to increase tonight, maybe even for last time, because that is how high Will Horton sets the bar.  

Maybe that’s the problem. I’ve never really been this into a guy before. I’ve never felt this kind of connection, the kind of connection where doing nothing with this one person is better than doing everything with anyone else. The kind of connection when you know what that person is thinking by the way they frown or carry themselves. The kind of connection where you lay in your respective beds at two o’clock in the morning, texting each other until one of you breaks, and finally calls.

I never had that anticipation, that sense of comfort in another person’s presence until Will. In fact it’s hard to believe that we were once nothing more than friends. We’ve played it so carefully,  both afraid of accidentally screwing up what I think we both sensed was something different, something maybe once in a lifetime kind of special. Last night was my first time at Will’s dorm, and we’ve been together nearly two months, _known_ each other for nearly two years. And tonight he’s seeing my apartment for the first time, tonight we’re…well, it’s a night for firsts.

I told him to come over, that we’ll hang out and I’ll even cook. I tried to make it sound like any other night, but we both know that tonight is about something else. I don’t want him to feel like it’s just about sex, though. That isn’t us, and it would probably only serve to make him even more nervous than he undoubtedly already is.

I stir my spaghetti sauce (secretly named Sonny K’s secret sauce of awesomeness), and I just have to grin to myself when thinking about Will when he’s twitchy and nervous. Perhaps it’s something that shouldn’t get me going, but it does. There is just something so frank, so endearingly honest about him. He truly does wear his heart on his sleeve; and it lets me know that when he looks at me like I hung the moon just for him, that he is really _feeling_ that. It’s one of the things I love about him most.

His knock at the door startles me, literally _startles_ me out of my day dream and I drop my spoon, but not without flicking sauce all over my white _freakin’_ shirt first. I glance at the door, and back down at my shirt, horrified.

“Uh…”

There’s another knock, followed by a clearly tentative: “Sonny?”

“Uh, h-hey, come on in!” I call, reaching for a cloth and running it under the faucet before scrubbing at my shirt. I turn around when I hear the door open.

Will gives me a hesitant smile, closing the door behind him. “Hey,” he says quietly.

“Hey, you.”  I walk over to him, giving him a quick kiss hello. “You’re here.”

“I’m here.” I see his throat bob nervously, and his hand fiddles with the strap of his backpack I only now notice he has slung over one shoulder.

_An overnight bag._

He sees me looking at it and instantly blushes. “Um, smells great in here.”

“That’s because I’m a barista by day and a spaghetti-making badass by night.”

“Oh, I see.” He nods, laughing softly and licking his lips like he always does when he’s uneasy.

“You uh, you want a tour of the digs?”

“Yeah, yeah sure.” He sets his bag down by the table, twisting his hands together for a second before he digs them into the back pockets of his jeans, his shoulders hunching. “I can’t believe I’ve known you so long and I’ve never actually seen your apartment.”

“Well, it’s...humble?” I wince.

“Hey, it’s all yours. It’s not a dorm and it’s not your mom’s place. That automatically makes you cooler than me.”

I nudge him playfully, and try to go for light and breezy. “Okay, so, this is the kitchen, obviously.” I say, pointing to where I’m cooking up a storm. I point to the closed door. “Bathroom.” And then like an idiot I point at the bed. “Living room slash bedroom.”

He looks at the bed, and then back at me, worrying the corner of his lip. My shoulders slump, and I find that I just have to put it out there; I have to break the tension for him. I step closer to him, my hand touching his waist. “Will,” I say softly “don’t be nervous.”

He lets a deep breath out at my words, smiling that sort of half smile of his as he looks away almost shyly. He has no idea what seeing him like this does to me. He shakes his head slightly. “Sorry, um…I’m just a little…I’m happy to be here.”

Could he have said anything more perfect? No, the answer to that is no. I kiss him, and I can actually feel some of the tension ease out of him. I run a hand over the back of his head and cup the nape of his neck. I feel his hands grip my shirt loosely, and I gently nudge his nose with my own.

“Relax,” I say softly. “It’s just me, remember? It’s me.”

He smiles at that. “Yeah. Hi,” he says quietly, joking.

I smile. “Hi, can I feed you?”

“Yes please.”

I kiss him once more, just a peck, and then point at my tiny kitchen table. “You go sit.”

“Okay, _oh!_ Um, I brought…” He reaches for his bag, hesitates, and then pulls out a box. “I brought breadsticks.” He shrugs, as if just realizing how awkward and strange a statement that is. “I…you said you were making spaghetti, so…”

“So you brought breadsticks?” I will not laugh at him, no matter how unintentionally charming he is.

He looks at the box in his hand. “Yes. Is that weird?” He winces. “It’s weird, isn’t it? I would have brought wine or something, but I…well I _can’t_ , so…”

I’m suddenly reminded that he’s eighteen. _Eighteen_. And it’s not like eighteen is some unfathomably long time ago for me, it’s only four years, but I think back to the person I was then, and the person I am now, and I’m hit by those nerves again. No matter how much I try to tell myself that tonight isn’t a big deal, that Will and I know each other, care for each other, it _is_ a big deal. This is Will’s first time, and it’s on me to make it perfect for him, because that’s what he deserves.

I stride over to him; take the box, and lean down to kiss him. “I love breadsticks.”

He smiles, and then his eyes catch something. I look down when he touches my shirt. “You have some sauce on your shirt.”

I stand straight, making an annoyed little noise when I pluck at the front of my shirt. “Yeah, I know. Typical me, get crap all over myself just before my super-hot date arrives.”

He laughs at me, pink touching his cheeks. “That’s probably going to stain. Trust me, I have three younger siblings, I know all about stains.”

“Hmm. Can you stir the sauce for me while I quickly change?”

“Sure.” He hops up enthusiastically, and begins to stir the sauce. I’m pulling open a draw for a T-shirt and unbuttoning my shirt when I suddenly remember that my bedroom is within full view of my kitchen in my tiny, tiny apartment. “Um, you can probably just turn that off actually; don’t want it to burn…” I say over my shoulder, aware that I’m half naked and quickly digging through the draw for an un-rumpled T-shirt.

“Okay, cool.” He says. “So can I do…uh…”

I don’t even have to turn around; I know he’s staring at my bare back. I look over my shoulder, giving him what I hope is a reassuring, chillaxed smile. “Sorry, small apartment and all…”

“No, no it’s…” I see him smother a grin as he steps away from the kitchen counter and hovers near my tiny dinner table. “I’m just having a flashback to last night.” He says daringly.

I bite my lip, stilling my hands as I turn halfway towards him. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You know, the you not wearing a shirt part is just…it’s kind of cool.”

I deliberate for a second, and when I make the decision, I push the draw closed and walk towards him. I rub the back of my neck, and when I’m close enough to him I gently tug on the front of his shirt with one hand, pulling him close. Big blue eyes watch me expectantly, clearly nervous, but utterly willing.

“We can re-heat the food, if you want?” I say, making it his choice.

He nods his head quickly, wets his lip, and then he’s kissing me. A small groan leaves his lips that completely disarms me, and I gather him up in my arms, holding him against my body as he turns our kiss into something heated and desperate. I know I should be putting on the breaks and taking things a little slower, but it’s difficult with Will so desperate and willing in my arms.

“Undress me,” he whispers against my lips. “ _Please_.”

This time I’m the one groaning, I turn him and walk him back towards the bed as I make quick work of his shirt, sliding it down his arms.  The way he shrugs it off― his gorgeous shoulders just rolling― makes my breath catch in my throat. When his legs brush the mattress he kneels on the bed, moving backwards and tugging me forward by my belt buckle and a sweet grin.

I follow him, laying over him, and I’m flush with excitement and just… _joy_. This thing between us is something good and real and easy. I can’t put into words what it is to have Will looking at me like this, to have him so happy in my arms, aching for me.

I don’t even realize that he’s unbuckled my belt and unzipped my jeans until he’s pulling away from my kiss just ever so, his way of asking permission as he looks at me and tugs gently at the waistband of boxers. I kiss him, nod my head, and then it’s a mixture of our hands impatiently pushing denim and fabric out of the way, until eventually we’re both grinning and kissing and mapping new terrains with our hands.

We kick away our clothes and we’re lying on our sides, legs hesitantly entwining for the first time. I laugh softly and cup his jaw, because he’s biting back a grin and I know exactly why. “Just look.” I laugh.

His hands trail down my chest slightly, and he takes his first look at me completely naked. His hand slides around my back, his smile wide and devoid of any fear as he moves close to align his body with mine.

“Awesome,” he says, and then ignores my laughter and pulls me into a kiss.

It’s the hottest, most natural thing to be lying naked against him, and we rock against each other, muscle and heated skin sliding together. The first time our groins rub together is an accident, but the groan it rips from him is beautiful, and from there on we’re flush against one another.

“Will, we should―” I break off to gasp, because honestly, I could do just _this_ for the rest of my life and be satisfied, but I’m trying to be responsible, thoughtful. “We should probably talk a little…”

“You want to talk _now_?” He laughs breathlessly, reaching to pull me into his kiss again, but I take a hold of his hand that’s pulling me close, giving pause to his movements against me.

“Just…” I take a breath and swallow hard, reigning myself in. “Just for a second, we need to talk about how far this is going to go.”

He pulls back slightly. “I kind of thought this was going to go as far as it _could_ go.”

_Yes_. I try to not look as pleased as I feel. “I just want to be sure. There’s no pressure here, we go as far as you want to go and we stop when you say stop.”

He tries to kiss me again. “I’m sorry, did my raging hard-on give you the impression I wasn’t in the mood?”

I snicker, loving how eager he is, but I make him listen to me. “Will, when you say _as far as it can go_ ….” I trail off, lifting an eyebrow.

He looks lost for a second. “I…I want to make love” he whispers. “Don’t you?”

I nearly cave right there, grunting and pulling into a much needed kiss. “Yes, yes but…” Oh God, how to put this without making it too clinical or awkward. “Will, some guys like certain things, and some don’t…”

“Are you asking for the green light? I’m giving you the green light, Sonny. It’s fucking _neon_.”

I snort, and groan when his hands stroke across my body. He’s making it impossible to be level headed. I force the words out of my throat. “I’m asking you about…about penetration, Will.”

I brush my thumb against his heated cheek when he flushes, and I smile at him apologetically. “I’m sorry to make that sound so…I don’t mean to take the romance out of it, but we’ve got to be on the same page, I don’t want to make you unhappy or uncomfortable or―”

“Okay” he says, and his eyes have never looked so wide, so clear.

“Okay?”

“I want to,” he practically croaks out.

“You want to….” I say gently, silently begging him to give me a clue as I stroke his side. “It can go one of two ways, Will…”

“I want it all. I want it all with you.”

Something inside of me quakes, and I feel as though I might shake apart with desire. He edges closer to me, his knee lifting subtly over mine. “I want you to show me….” He bites his lip. “So that I know how to make love to you, later.”

That’s all I need to hear, and to be honest I’m slightly floored and more than a little desperate for this now. I’d thought….I thought it would be easier for him the first time if he was to…but he’s going to let me have him. He wants me to make love to him.

I roll over him, groaning like I’m in pain because I think maybe I am. The way he looks at me hurts, the way he trusts me hurts, and it’s this wonderful, _wonderful_ pain that I’ve never felt before. “I’ll take care of you,” I whisper, kissing him deep and long.

He stretches his neck beautifully when my lips brush against his neck, the dip of his throat, and along his collarbone. His hands drag up along my back I slink down his body, trailing kisses against his perfect stomach.

“You should know,” he says shakily, “that everything from this point on is new for me.”

I grin against his pubic bone, the heat of his length brushing my cheek. “I don’t know why, but that just turns me on even more.”

He lets out a breathless laugh that is cut short by a gasp as I take him into my mouth. I have dreamt so many times of doing this to Will, of showing him how good he could feel about sex when it was finally with the right person.  And hearing the noises he makes above me, I’m filled with this sheer satisfaction in the knowledge that that is exactly what he is feeling right now.

I look up at him, see his chest rise and fall; his head tilted back, a pained frown on his brow. I stroke his thigh and contemplate letting him come apart right now, of giving him bliss, but I know that bottoming will be easier for him the more aroused he is.

I move up his body, kissing him deeply before he’s even had a chance to open his eyes again. I watch him, brushing his cheek, and he nods, even though neither of us said a word. I reach for the bedside draw, pulling out what we need. When I’m leaning over him again, his legs spreading so beautifully for me, I see that he’s biting his lip and he’s looking as nervous as I’ve ever seen him.

“Hey,” I say softly, my thumb tracing the shape of his lower lip. “This stops when you say so, we can still―”

He lifts his hips against me, making me gasp, and he palms my shoulders. “I want this, I’m just…”

“You’re nervous.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t be?”

I trail my hand between us, resting it against his chest. “Your heart is pounding” I whisper, feeling almost in awe of the thumping under my palm.

“You always do that to me.”

I’m supposed to taking the lead in this, but everything he says is hitting me so hard that it’s difficult to feel strong. And he is so sweet, so yielding when my hand moves between his thighs and further still. His brow creases and his eyes close as I move my fingers inside of him. I brush my lips against his neck, murmuring to him and waiting for the moment when I know he’s ready. It doesn’t take long for him to cry out in a way that tells me that I’m doing everything right, and that he’s ready―that he _needs_ more.

There’s only the briefest moment of what seems like uncertainty in him when I roll on the condom, and settle between his thighs. “We can stop right now, and nothing would change,” I whisper. “I promise.”

He watches me, his eyes so blue, so beautiful. His answer is nothing more than the lift of his chin, the shifting of his hips against me. I can feel that he’s afraid, but I know that it’s the natural fear of the unknown, the need and want is still very much there.

I lean up on one hand and guide myself to him, and when I’m pressed against him, I lay myself over him, and watch him closely as I press forwards. His breath catches and I still for a moment until I sense he’s good, and then ever so slowly, I slide inside of him. I slide home.

The air rushes out of him, and he clutches me close. I stay dead still, my hand cupping his cheek, just waiting for him to open his eyes and look at me.

“Alright?” I ask breathlessly.

He takes a few deep breathes, and not saying a word, he lifts his head from the pillow to kiss me. Not even meaning to I shift inside of him, and I’m immediately overcome by the exquisite pleasure of it. “Will,” I breathe against his lips. “Oh God.”

I move slowly inside of him, just a gentle withdraw and push forwards, but it’s enough for him to arch beneath me, enough for him to let out a surprised, fucking _beautiful_ groan.

 As we slowly find our way, as I move inside of him, as his hips lift and canter to mine we quickly grow breathless. I open my eyes, not even realizing that I’d closed them when I feel his hands touching my face, holding me there. I don’t know where the soft laughter comes from, but it starts with my smile that’s quickly mimicked by his. And I think it’s just from the intimacy, this wonderful secret between us, this feeling of connectivity that overwhelms― that we just can’t help the overflow. He smiles into our kiss, and I think it’s because we both know how damn good it is.  

“I love this,” he whispers against my lips.

“I love _you_.”

I didn’t even mean to say it, but there it is. I stop moving, and I think he knows that it wasn’t a deliberate declaration, but if anything, the fact that those words slid free in such an unfiltered moment only attests to my sincerity.

I see a vulnerability enter his eyes from how true he wants those words to be, so I say it again. I say it with purpose and with all I have inside me. “I love you, Will.” I kiss him, desperate for him to know everything I feel that is inspired by him. “I love you so much.”

He lets out a breathless laugh, and he pulls me into inelegant kiss as he murmurs my words back to me. I groan, and so does he, and as we move, making love, I don’t know who says what or anything beyond this bed. When I feel that swell, the approaching ecstasy I whimper, both desperate for it and but not even close to ready for this to end.

Will clutches me, moving against me. His fingers dig into my flesh and I can feel him shaking. “ _Son_ ―” he gasps.

I trail the tip of my tongue against his neck. “Close?”

He grips my shoulder and lets out an inarticulate noise, one that brings a grin to my lips, and I make my movements just a little bit more forceful. I lean up on one elbow, and slide a hand between us to stroke him. You’d think I’d shocked him by the way he moves and the noise he makes. The second I feel him unravel, the tight heat around me clenches and becomes too much for me.

I press my face against his neck, pushing into his body hard, one, two, three times and his hands hold me close, dragging against my skin and leaving hot trails in their wake. I can feel the slick of his come between us, but I can’t move. I can only pant against him, feeling as if every nerve ending is on fire. And I think the only thing that brings me down is his hand stroking the damp hair at the nape of my neck, and the rise and fall of that beautiful chest beneath my cheek.

Eventually I slip from him, and I kiss him deeply when he hisses, wanting to take that sting away from him, or at least acknowledge that I know he’s sore from having me inside of him, connecting to him in a way that is difficult to submit to, depending on who you are and who you’re with.

“I know,” I whisper, kissing those swollen lips again. “It’ll get better.”

“Don’t take long,” he says, “please.” His voice broken and threadbare sounding as he watches me stand so that I can remove the condom and clean us up.

When I come back to the bed he’s moved the sheets aside, and is climbing in. I kneel on the side of the bed, still naked and unapologetically content with being so. I kiss him. “Are you hungry, or…?”

“I want to get in bed.”

I can understand that. He doesn’t want to go to sleep, neither do I, but he wants closeness.

“But yeah, a little.”

I bite my lip; leave the bed for a second, and then when I return with a box of breadsticks, he laughs softly. He’s curled on his side, the duvet covering up to only his waist as he hugs my pillow. As soon as I climb in he shoves the pillow aside in favor of me, and noses into the breadstick box.

“The breadsticks were a good idea, then” he says as he takes a bite of one.

I slide back against the pillows, lifting my arm for him as he rests against me.

“Absolutely,” I say softly, feeling ridiculously tender towards him.

He looks at me, understands immediately, and breaks off the tip of his breadstick, handing it to me. I take it, but I kiss him instead. “Okay?” I whisper.

He looks at me, a small, perfectly serine smile on his lips, and he nods.

“Not in pain?”

“I feel good. It was…” He shakes his head, as if lost for words, and I feel myself swell with ridiculous, masculine pride.

“It really was, wasn’t it?” I sigh, and he laughs at me, but it’s okay, because he’s smiling and he’s good.

We’re quiet for a few minutes, lying curled up together with the breadstick box abandoned on the floor. Will’s hand traces an invisible pattern on my chest, and he silence is only broken when he murmurs quietly, almost shyly…

“Not bad for our second attempt.”

I know he’s looking for reassurance without actually asking, and I press my lips into his hairline and run my fingers through the short, blond strands. “I’d say it was pretty damn perfect.”

“Hmm, accept…”

“Accept?”

I feel his shoulders shake before I hear him sniggering. “Man, from now on I’m going to be turned on like you won’t believe every time I smell spaghetti sauce.”

I snort loudly, and he laughs, lifting his head to look at me. Our semi-serious mood is broken seamlessly and we both laugh quietly as we slink further under the sheets. 

“Oh God, Will,” I sigh. “You are perfection.”

 


End file.
